


Baby, You're the Best I've Ever Met

by lco123



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: She’s halfway through her second glass of chardonnay, just about ready to call it a night, when someone calls out, “Melissa Hastings?”Companion piece to Times, They Are A'Changing. The road by which Melissa and Mona find their way to one another.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was so much fun to write, and it got much longer than I expected! I had initially planned for it to cover a longer period of time, but I think it could have easily been three times longer and at a certain point I had to rein it in. I love this couple, though, so I may pop in with another M&M one shot in the future.
> 
> Also, this fic would seriously not exist were it not for speakpirate's fantastic Melissa/Charlotte story All the Things That Used to Matter. That fic inspired me to see Melissa in a brand new way, and if you haven't read it you absolutely should!

Melissa is so damn tired of waiting.

She’s at a crummy little pub, waiting for Wren to meet her for the drink he promised hours ago. Melissa hates this bar, with its rowdy crowd and sticky floors, but it’s near the hospital where Wren works, and god forbid anything not be convenient for him. 

The worst part is, Melissa isn’t even disappointed, not anymore. All she really feels is boredom. In fact, she’d been mulling over whether this was the night she was finally going to end things for good.

Well, that conversation will have to wait at least a few more hours.

She’s halfway through her second glass of chardonnay, just about ready to call it a night, when someone calls out, “Melissa Hastings?”

Melissa twists around at the vaguely familiar and distinctly American voice. There, just entering the pub, is Mona Vanderwaal. She’s dressed as casually as Melissa has ever seen her, in jeans and a blazer overtop a pink T-shirt emblazoned with the text: THIS IS WHAT A FEMINIST LOOKS LIKE. Her eyes are bright, hair shiny.

Frankly, she looks tremendous.

“Mona,” Melissa murmurs, gesturing her over to the bar stool next to her. “What’re you doing in London?”

“I’m spending a semester here,” Mona tells her.

Melissa nods, recognition setting in. “Right.” Of course, Mona’s still in college. A junior, just like Spencer, despite the fact that she carries the air of someone much older.

“What are you doing in a place like this?” Mona asks, eyebrows raised as she surveys the grimy scene around them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa replies, her guard already lifting. There’s a reason she spent years more or less avoiding Mona.

“Let me rephrase that,” Mona says softly. “A lady like yourself should _not_ in an establishment like this.” She’s smirking, which could mean a lot of things, but right now Melissa is going to interpret it as flirting.

“You’re always working an angle, aren’t you?” Melissa comments.

“I think you know a little something about that.”

Melissa chuckles. Mona’s tone isn’t unkind, just direct. Melissa is surprised by how much she doesn’t mind it. “What are you studying?”

“Business. And law. I’d love to tell you all about it,” Mona replies. “But not here. Why don’t we grab some dinner?”

Melissa narrows her eyes. “If you think this place is such a dump, why’d you come here?”

Mona shrugs. “I find you often run into the most interesting people in the most unexpected places.”

“That would make me interesting,” Melissa surmises, privately pleased at the subtle compliment.

“It most certainly would. What do you say? Besides my mom, I haven’t spoken to anyone from Rosewood in ages.”

“I’m supposed to meet someone,” Melissa tells her, though she’s already made up her mind to go with Mona.

“Not the good doctor still, I hope?” Mona asks. When Melissa doesn’t reply, Mona reaches a hand forward and lightly caresses her wrist. “Oh, honey, come on! Look at you. You can do so much better! The man couldn’t even settle on a speciality.”

“I’m breaking up with him. Tomorrow,” Melissa announces. It feels good to say aloud. Almost as good as Mona’s warm skin against her own.

Mona grins. “Fabulous! You can text him from the cab. Tell him you came down with food poisoning, or something. Men hate being faced with the reality that women actually perform bodily functions.” She stands up, reaching for Melissa’s hand.

Dinner turns into drinks, which turns into dancing, which turns into Melissa surprisingly herself once again by taking Mona back to her flat—the one that Wren moved out of a couple of months ago, thankfully, sighting their incompatible schedules. 

Mona’s mouth isn’t just good for telling stories, Melissa quickly discovers, and she doesn’t remember that she forget to text Wren until she’s well on her way to her third orgasm.

\--

Here’s the thing: Melissa doesn’t really know Mona. Like, at all.

Sure, they did accidentally tag-team murder someone (though Melissa talked to Charlotte, and Bethany Young sounds like she _definitely_ had it coming). And true, Mona _did_ blackmail Melissa at one point, and later, Melissa _did_ try to help Mona in putting a stop to the hurricane of a human being known as Alison DiLaurentis. But that had much more to do with Alison than it ever had to do with Mona.

And it’s all more or less water under the bridge, as far as Melissa is concerned. Rosewood has never had a shortage of dysfunction, and being out of that atmosphere has only solidified for Melissa how different the real world can be. She may not be perfectly happy in London, but she isn’t actively dodging the police, or covering for Spencer and her friends after they do something idiotic. Rosewood is Melissa’s past; _anywhere_ else is her future.

So what if she cried for three days after she thought Mona died? It’s a natural human response to death, and it meant nothing, in the long run. Mona is very much alive. 

Very much alive, and suddenly hurtling out of Melissa’s past and into her present.

\--

Melissa doesn’t expect to see Mona again during her stay in London, but they do exchange numbers. Melissa learns that Mona is a pretty fun person to text with—the irony of which she’s certain Spencer wouldn’t appreciate—and before long they’re checking in frequently, Melissa keeping Mona posted through the stages of once again extracting Wren from her life, and Mona sharing cutting observations about the other students she’s traveling with.

One afternoon, just as Melissa is getting off work, her phone rings. It’s Mona, which is unusual. So far their relationship has been strictly through text.

(Well. Besides that one night. But Melissa kind of makes a point to not bring that up.)

“I’m leaving next week,” Mona tells her. “And I thought, maybe we should actually see each other before I go?”

“Yes,” Melissa replies, immediately. “My place, tomorrow?”

“Not even going to pretend like the night won’t end in your bedroom?” Mona murmurs, voice like honey. “I like your style, Hastings.”

“We’re just _meeting_ there,” Melissa insists, rolling her eyes. She’s grateful that they’re on the phone right now, so Mona can’t see her growing blush.

“We’ll see. I’ll be there at seven.”

Mona arrives the following evening with wine and chocolate. “Shall we have a drink here first?” Melissa suggests.

Mona looks like she wants to make a quippy comment, but she merely nods and heads to Melissa’s kitchen. She finds the wine opener on her first try and elegantly uncorks the bottle she brought.

“So, can I ask you a question?” Mona drawls nearly an hour later, when they’ve made appetizers of the chocolate and three quarters of the bottle of wine.

“You can ask,” Melissa replies. “I may or may not answer.”

Mona smiles, warm and lovely. The two of them are on sitting in Melissa’s living room on the ludicrously expensive rug Veronica bought Melissa when she moved here. Melissa usually doesn’t like sitting on the floor, but she has to admit that it feels just about perfect right now.

Mona takes another sip of wine and turns to face her. “It’s more of an assumption, I guess. You hadn't ever slept with a woman before me, had you?”

Melissa scowls. “What makes you say that?”

Mona lifts a shoulder. “You were great, I promise. But I got the feeling it was your first time. There’s just an…energy, when someone is a first-timer.”

“Oh, and you’ve slept with enough first-timers to know?” Melissa shoots back. It’s a weird comment—possibly more of a compliment than an insult, actually—but she isn’t sure what to make of Mona’s completely correct assumption.

“Not a lot, but enough,” Mona says calmly. “You hid it well, believe me. But I was your first?”

Melissa swallows and nods. 

“Have you wanted to before?” Mona asks her.

The question horrifies Melissa. She has, of course she has. There have certainly been girls over the years that she’s thought about. Katie Liu at horse camp. Miranda Taylor in college. And, of course, there was the night with Cece Drake at the Kahn Cabin. “A show for the boys,” Cece had insisted, but Melissa secretly adored the way their bodies fit together as they kissed.

Still, these are things she doesn’t talk about. Or think about. It isn’t that she wouldn’t be accepted. It isn’t even that she’s gay, because she isn’t. It’s that being with a woman has never been a viable option. It’s never been part of the plan. 

And Melissa has never been a fan of changing plans.

“I have wanted to,” Melissa says softly. “But—”

“I get it,” Mona cuts in, offering a small smile. “Sometimes you have to push down the things you  really want, just so you can survive.”

Melissa nods. Yes. That’s exactly it.

They don’t make it to the restaurant that night.

\--

Melissa works very hard to put Mona’s impending departure out of her mind, but the day of Mona’s flight she can’t help but text her, wishing her safe travels. Mona texts back immediately, promising to be in touch once she’s settled back home.

If Melissa is in a pissy mood for a full week, it has nothing to do with Mona leaving. They only saw each other twice, and that’s hardly enough time to make an impact. No, it has nothing to do with Mona at all.

Which is a lot easier to tell herself before Mona’s eventual phone call brightens Melissa’s mood completely.

\--

Melissa has to be in New York for work, and she hems and haws about calling Mona before deciding against it. Mona has just started her senior year at Columbia, and their combined busy schedules have meant that communication between the two of them has been fairly low, as of late. It would seem pretty out of the blue, and perhaps a bit desperate, were she to randomly call and invite Mona out for a drink. Besides, she’ll be stuck in meetings almost the entire time.

Well, not the _entire_ time. She has a few extra hours to go shopping, and her hotel is right across the street from Barney’s. It would be illogical for her to _not_ go in.

Melissa is just trying on a pair of tall black boots when a voice from behind her murmurs, “Those look amazing on you.” 

This time, Melissa knows without looking that it’s Mona.

“Hi,” she says with a slight chuckle. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I should say!” Mona replies brightly. She turns to the saleswoman who’s been helping Melissa and hands her a pair of purple stilettos. “Size six-and-a-half, please. And can you turn the lights up? It looks like a funeral parlor in here. I know you don’t want us to be able to read the outrageous price tags, but I have to be able to actually see my feet before I decide if I want to buy your overpriced shoes.” Mona grins as the woman gulps. “Thank you!”

She sits down beside Melissa as the saleswoman walks away. “I swear, if you want something done right—”

“You have to do it yourself,” Melissa supplies.

“Exactly!” Mona leans back against the seat. Her smile is still in place, but there’s a bit of uncertainty behind her eyes. “So, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to New York?”

“I’m just here for a few days,” Melissa explains. “Hardly enough time to do anything.”

Mona arches an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you and I making the most of limited time. You should have called. We’re friends, right? Friends call.”

Melissa nods. “I’ve never had a friend like you, I suppose.”

“What, you mean a friend who you occasionally text and rarely see, and then once in a blue moon have mind-blowing sex with?”

“You have to admit, it’s unusual,” Melissa says. She feels a little sheepish, but Mona doesn’t really seem hurt. Besides, what’s there really to feel guilty about? It’s not like they’re dating.

“When have either of us done things the usual way?” Mona posits.

Melissa has to concede that point. She buys Mona her shoes as an apology—a very expensive apology—and then Mona returns the favor by taking them out to dinner. Which, inevitably, turns into hotel jacuzzi sex. 

“Can you believe you almost missed out on this?” Mona purrs against Melissa’s ear, her hand working wonders on Melissa underneath the water.

Melissa doesn’t have words to respond, merely moans into Mona’s mouth.

When she returns to London, she makes a point to start texting Mona regularly again, and pretty soon Mona’s the closest thing she has to a best friend.

\--

So it shouldn’t come as a huge shock, but it turns out Mona is great on the phone in more ways than one.

Phone sex has always seemed crass and juvenile to Melissa, but Mona quickly makes her reevaluate that opinion.

\--

Melissa is somewhere at the intersection of pissed off and exhausted. After three days of meetings at the San Francisco office, she was planning on flying home, with a short layover in Boston. Of course, the plane leaving San Francisco was late, meaning Melissa missed her connection, and now she’s stuck for the night at the Hilton Hotel closest to the airport, with a six AM flight leaving tomorrow morning.

She’s still in her pencil skirt and blouse from this afternoon’s meeting, having toed out of her heels some time ago, and she’s getting ready to call it a night, put on some sweats, and order room service, when there’s a knock at the door and a call of, “Housekeeping!”

Melissa is annoyed by the intrusion—unjustly, but it’s been a hellish day already—so she wrenches the door open with her eyes half-closed, already sniping that she doesn’t need anything, when she registers just who’s standing there.

It’s Mona. Wearing an impeccably-fitted French maid’s uniform and a massive grin.

“Hi,” she coos. “Want some company?”

“I—what—,” Melissa gapes, so happy and surprised that she can’t quite form words. “Is—is that a Halloween costume?”

Mona’s eyes widen in mock-outrage. “As if I’d show up here in polyester. This is La Perla!”

“La Perla does _not_ make stuff like that,” Melissa points out, not even sure why she’s arguing this point.

“I know a guy,” Mona tosses off with a shrug. “Now, are you going to invite me in?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Melissa says emphatically. She grabs Mona’s hand and pulls her inside, letting her eyes roam as she does. Mona looks so sexy that Melissa can’t even decide where she’d like to touch first. 

But more importantly, she’s _here_.

“Are you happy to see me?” Mona asks. She’s still got her smirk in place, but there’s a softness to her tone, as though she’s worried she might have messed up or broken a rule, somehow.

Melissa pulls her close in response, cupping Mona’s face in her hands and kissing her deeply. Mona’s mouth opens against hers, and Melissa is struck by how familiar she tastes. They haven’t done this that many times at all. But already kissing Mona is starting to feel like home.

It’s a feeling that should worry her, but she pushes it down, instead pulling away just enough to look at Mona. “How did you know I was here?” she asks.

“I can’t reveal all my secrets,” Mona replies, slipping her arms around Melissa’s waist. “But let’s just say I have friends in the right places. And I figured, trickery is still okay when it’s for a good cause, right?”

“I suppose so,” Melissa murmurs. “Though someday soon you’re going to have to tell me about all these mysterious friends of yours.”

Mona leans forward to nip at her ear. “I could tell you right now,” she whispers, her warm breath making Melissa shiver. She grazes her teeth lightly along Melissa’s neck. “But I’d much rather do _this._ ” 

At that comment she drops to her knees, sliding her hands up the backs of Melissa’s legs and under her skirt, before settling them around the waistband of Melissa’s pantyhose. She blinks up at Melissa’s devilishly.

“Yeah,” Melissa breathes, her hand instinctively tangling in the hair spilling out from Mona’s maid’s cap. “I think I’d rather you do that, too.”

\--

“Did you ever play Truth at the Kahn cabin?” Melissa asks, slinging an arm across Mona’s middle.

She’s back in New York for another round of meetings. She may have been the first person to volunteer for this trip, but that doesn’t have anything to do with Mona.

(Okay, it may have a little something to do with Mona. But her apartment definitely beats the hotels Melissa usually gets stationed at. Plus, it saves the company money. She’s merely being economical.)

“I played a lot of games at the Kahn cabin,” Mona replies, rubbing a hand softly across Melissa’s shoulder. “But I don’t think I played that one. I love learning new games, though. How do you play?”

“Well, the actual version was very high stakes for a high school party, but it’s essentially Truth or Dare, minus the Dare part,” Melissa explains.

“So we just ask each other questions?”

“Yeah,” Melissa says. “But they have to be yes or no, and we can’t ask follow-ups.” She feels like she might be playing with fire here, inviting the game master to play a game, but she still has so many questions for Mona. Too many to just straight-forwardly ask without coming off as insane.

And besides, she’s always loved a game.

“I’m in.” Mona grins. “And I get to go first, as the newbie, right?”

“By all means.”

Mona clears her throat, her face growing serious.“You said you’ve never slept with a girl. Have you ever kissed one?” Clearly she had this locked and loaded.

“Yes,” Melissa replies, her mind drifting unwillingly to Cece’s soft lips and golden hair.

“More than one?”

“No.”

“Anyone I know?”

Melissa isn’t about to go down _that_ road just yet. “That’s three questions in a row!”

Mona smirks. “So, that’s a yes, then.”

Melissa shakes her head, ready to redirect. “What about you?”

“You know I’ve kissed girls,” Mona replies nonchalantly. “Lots of them.”

Melissa chews her lip. She’s been mulling her next question for a while. “Did you ever kiss Hanna?”

“No,” Mona says softly.

“But you wanted to?” Melissa presses. She doesn’t mean to be cruel, but she’s been curious for so long. “I mean, you were in love with her?”

“Yes. I was.”

“Was? You aren’t anymore?”

Mona is silent for a long moment, before replying, “No.”

“Have you ever loved anyone like her?” Melissa asks quietly.

“Not…not in the same way,” Mona answers, her tone just slightly pained. “But…” She cuts herself off, looking down at their entwined arms.

“But what?” Melissa questions.

Mona takes a deep breath. “It’s time for me to ask you a question. Were you ever attracted to me when I was in high school?”

“No, because you were a teenager and I’m not a Rosewood male,” Melissa answers immediately and honestly. “Were you attracted to me?”

“I was,” Mona says with a playful smile. “I can remember telling Hanna I thought Jason was cute, when really I thought you were.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Melissa asks.

“No lying, right?”

“Right.” Melissa is more pleased than she’d like to admit, but she has another whopper in store for Mona. “Have you ever been attracted to my sister?”

Mona doesn’t say anything for a beat, which is a beat longer than Melissa is comfortable with.

“Oh my god!” she yelps.

“Once or twice,” Mona admits very quietly.

“Oh my _god_!” Melissa groans, pulling her arm away from Mona to press a pillow against her own face.

“You asked the question!” Mona defends.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes!” Melissa replies indignantly, starting to feel a little nauseous.

“It was the quiz-off! She kept saying facts and she had her hair up!”

“Okay, please just ask me a question so we can move on,” Melissa groans.

“Gladly,” Mona says with an exhale, but she doesn’t ask anything.

“What, can’t think of one?” Melissa prods.

“I can. I’m just not sure I want the answer.”

“It can’t be worse than what we just went through,” Melissa mutters.

“Okay.” Mona shifts, propping her arm on her elbow to look at Melissa. “Are you just doing this to piss off Spencer?”

“Doing what?”

“ _This_. Us.” She gestures between them. “Whatever it is we’re doing here.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Melissa answers swiftly. Her brow furrows. “Are you?”

“No,” Mona replies. Her eyes are soft. “I didn’t think you were, but—”

Melissa tosses the pillow she was clutching aside and runs her hand up Mona’s arm. “Mona, I am here because I like being here,” she insists. “No other reason.”

“Okay.” Mona bites her lip. “Me too. Any other questions?”

Melissa looks at her squarely. “Just one.”

“Lay it on me,” Mona instructs.

“What are you afraid of? Not, like, spiders or something. But a real, deep down fear.”

“I’m not afraid of spiders.”

“Nor am I.”

“Total honesty?” Mona asks.

“Total honesty,” Melissa confirms.

“Alright.” Mona lays her head back down, gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “I guess—I guess I’m afraid that none of this will matter. That I’ll do everything I can to help people, but then I’ll die and it won’t have made a difference. My presence will just fade away, and no one will care or remember me.”

Melissa swallows. The heaviness of the statement hits her hard, and all she can say is, “Wow.”

“What about you?” Mona asks.

“It’s going to sound trite.”

“C’mon, I just laid my soul bare, here.”

Melissa inhales deeply. “I’m afraid I’ll never have long-lasting happiness,” she admits. “That every moment of joy will be immediately followed by heartache, and I’ll never just…be happy.”

Mona is silent, and the lack of a response makes Melissa’s skin crawl. “Say something,” she implores.

“I think you will,” Mona replies neutrally. “That’s just my opinion.”

“Well. Thank you.” Melissa blinks, unsure exactly what that means, but wanting to offer something in return. “And I don’t think you could ever fade away. For what it’s worth, if you died, I’d remember you.” She thinks about that awful time when everyone though Mona was dead, when it truly felt like the world was upside down.

Mona cracks a grin, seemingly ready to move on from this conversation. “Why, Ms. Hastings, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get into my nonexistent pants!”

Melissa smirks. “Somehow I don’t think I need any help with that.”

“You know something?” Mona murmurs, tugging Melissa close and rolling them over. “You just might be right.”

\--

After the game of Truth, the two of them actually manage to leave Mona’s apartment. They walk to Mona’s favorite restaurant, where they eat a delicious meal followed by the most decadent chocolate lava cake Melissa’s ever tasted. After dinner, Mona charms the waiter into giving them a tour of the wine cellar. She locates the most expensive bottle, and announces that she and Melissa will have to come back and try it sometime.

As they leave the restaurant Mona takes Melissa’s hand, and Melissa doesn’t let go until she absolutely has to.

\--

As the end of Mona’s senior year draws closer, she understandably pulls away from Melissa a bit. It makes all the sense in the world, and yet Melissa finds herself annoyed by it. Not even annoyed at Mona, but at the situation in general. At how reliant she’s become on someone she doesn’t even share a country with.

Her mom calls one day while Melissa is feeling particularly unmoored. 

“Any dating prospects?” Veronica asks hopefully.

“No,” Melissa answers sharply. “I mean, not really. English men are all the same.”

“There are plenty of other non-English fish in the sea,” Veronica points out. “You could even move home, if you’re that frustrated.”

“I’m not moving back to Rosewood,” Melissa tells her.

“I’m not suggesting Rosewood,” Veronica replies. “Just maybe, somewhere on this continent? It would be wonderful to have you close by.”

“That’s what Spencer’s for, Mom,” Melissa says, with just a small amount of bite.

“No, she isn’t,” Veronica murmurs. “She’s busy with school. I’ve barely talked to her in a month.”

Melissa softens, just slightly, hearing the loneliness in her mom’s voice. “I’m sorry we’ve both been so out of touch.”

“Just promise me this,” Veronica says. “If you’re going to be that far away, just make sure you have good people around you. People who make you happy.”

“Happy?” Melissa snorts. “That’s never been a Hastings priority.”

“Maybe it should have been,” Veronica muses. “Working hard is important, of course. But at the end of the day, you can’t come home to it.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Melissa asks.

“Nothing,” Veronica replies. “Just—take care of yourself. And let people in, if you can. I know that’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too.”

Melissa wants to ask a follow-up question, to press her mom on why she’s saying all this now. But instead she says, “Thank you.”

To which Veronica replies, “I love you.”

\--

Melissa half-takes her mom’s advice: she says yes when a coworker asks her out. He’s an American named Benjamin, and he seems like a complete catch: smart, well-read, good family. He’s handsome, in the clean cut way that Melissa has always been drawn to, and he’s made it clear that he’s interested in a way that isn’t too pushy.

Melissa tells Mona right off the bat, partially as a test, and Mona tonelessly wishes her good luck before saying she has to go.

Benjamin picks her up promptly, even bringing her flowers, and he takes her to a restaurant she’s been wanting to try for weeks. He references Louisa May Alcott, which Melissa takes note of; he isn’t one of those guys who thinks only male authors are worthwhile. He lets Melissa pick the wine but insists on paying for the meal. All in all, a total gentleman.

At the end of the evening Melissa invites him in for an after-dinner drink. She doesn’t plan on sleeping with him, but she figures getting to know him better couldn’t hurt. And she wouldn’t hate to kiss him.

At least that’s what she thinks, but then Benjamin’s lips touch hers, and she feels absolutely nothing. She pulls back and tries again, but still: zero spark. Without intending to, she thinks about Mona, about the ease with which they fit together, the warmth she feels whenever Mona is close by.

And, in spite of herself, Melissa starts to giggle. Because of course. After everything, of course she had to go and fall in love with Mona Goddamn Vanderwaal, of all people.

Benjamin scowls at her. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Melissa says, unable to contain the grin on her face. “I mean, yes. I feel so sick suddenly.” She coughs in an exaggerated manner.

“Yeah, sick in the head, maybe,” Benjamin mutters.

“I think you’d better go,” Melissa tells him. “I’m sorry.” She doesn’t sound convincing even to her own ears.

Benjamin leaves, and Melissa doesn’t waste anytime: she calls Mona right away. It’s nearly three AM in New York, but she knows Mona barely sleeps anyway.

Still, Mona sounds vaguely alarmed when she answers the phone. “You okay?” she asks in an incredibly cute sleepy voice.

“I’m good,” Melissa murmurs, her impossible giddiness growing. “How are you?”

“It’s three in the morning,” Mona replies. “I kind of expected an emergency. I don’t have to forge a passport? Bail you out of a British jail? Because I’m totally down, if need be.”

“No jailbreak needed,” Melissa assures her. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” For all her love of planning, she didn’t really think this through. It’s kind of exhilarating; Melissa isn't used to just reacting.

"How was your big date?” Mona asks.

"Not so good,” Melissa replies.

She can practically hear the grin in Mona’s voice as she says, ”Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not.”

"No, I'm not,” Mona acknowledges. “So, what’s wrong with him? Narcissist? Bad kisser?"

"Neither. He was the perfect gentleman.” Melissa can’t help but draw this out a bit. “Charming. Inquisitive. Even nice to the waiter."

"Sounds like a real bore."

"He wasn’t,” Melissa says honestly. “We had a lovely time. But..."

"But what?” Mona prompts, sounding a bit more invested.

Melissa sighs, without any real upset. ”You’re really going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean,” Mona lies.

Melissa takes a deep breath and pushes her chips to the center: ”The only thing wrong with him was that he wasn't you."

“Oh,” Mona breathes.

"Mona, I don't want to be with anyone else,” Melissa admits, the words feeling lighter as she says them.

"You don't?"

“No,” Melissa murmurs. “I really, really don't."

"Well, that's good. That's great, actually.” She can hear Mona shifting, probably sitting up in bed and putting on her glasses. “Because I don't want to be with anyone else, either."

“Alright.” Melissa laughs a little, warmth spreading through her body. “I’m glad we cleared that up."

"Me too.” Mona exhales. “Because I'm kind of totally in love with you."

"Just kind of?” Melissa teases, even as her heart squeezes tight.

"Oh, give me a break. It's three in the morning!” Mona protests.

"You never sleep anyway,” Melissa points out.

"You've got me there,” Mona says softly. “But hey, I should get some sleep before class in the morning. And you should go to bed too.”

"I know.” She smiles into the phone. “For what it's worth, I love you too."

"It's worth a lot,” Mona tells her. “Get some sleep, baby."

"You too.”

Melissa hangs up the phone and stretches out on her bed. Her mind is racing, but she actually gets to sleep fairly quickly.

When she arrives at work the next day, there are a dozen roses on her desk, with a notecard reading: _I'm one thousand percent, totally, madly in love with you. Is that better?!_

Melissa laughs out loud and texts Mona: _Much better._

She carefully peels the notecard out of its holder and puts it in her wallet. She sits down at her desk and surveys her work.

There’s a lot to get through. It’s going to be a long day, and definitely a while until she’s back home again. But that’s okay. 

Melissa doesn’t mind the wait.


End file.
